


The Sun's Shadow

by Ash_Rabbit



Category: Ancient Egyptian Religion, Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Aknamkanon is a garbage king, Ancient Egypt, But god benben lacks the dramatic weight in english, Character Study, Except for pyramid, Gen, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, No Hellenic Nomenclature here, Thats technically a benben too, ancient egyptian naming conventions, and the instructional text of merikare was clearly never read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:20:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23906083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ash_Rabbit/pseuds/Ash_Rabbit
Summary: A boy-king bears the sins of his father.Born as Kul'elna is destroyed, a debt in blood is owed.The shadow of Re lingers.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	1. Re-Khepri

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any questions not answered in my endnotes or mistakes in the mythos please feel free to ask questions or correct me. Also please note that Re=Ra, Benben=Obelisk, I won't be deferring to Hellenic nomenclature in this fic. A few names have been adjusted to be more accurate, the Egyptian>Japanese>English transition distorts intent I think.

Akhnamkhnum cradles his son, the babes hair was a dark wisping swirl of Nun's waters, eyes squeezed shut as they suckled on their fingers. Born prematurely the boy was so small and delicate. There had been an unspoken fear that the young prince would pass onto the field of reeds like his siblings come before. His squeal of ‘Hii!” had dispelled most fears, but he could not help the niggling worry. A tiny fist flails wildly, slapping the God Pyramid. He jolts as the pendant glows a violet shadowed gold.

There’s a new figure in the room.

His teeth shine the silvered bone of the Gods, his flesh glows a soft gold in the torchlight, his youthful face is framed by the radiance of Re, which shifts to lapis lazuli strands shaped like benben’s. His eyes framed in inhumanly clean pitch lines of kohl hold the shifting hues of sunrise.

Akhnamkhnum falls to his knees in front of Re-Khepri, the morning light in all his glory, clad in the still clinging waters of Nun made linen. “How might I serve my lord Re?” He had known from the moment he had failed to put an end to the revolts by his own hand that he was a false god. He had hoped the Gods would take mercy upon him, grant him the time to watch his only surviving child reach adulthood.

Re frowns, lotus blue eyes settling on the pendant and then his child, Akhnamkhnum holds himself rigid. Of course the God knows, the colony of tomb builders decimated overnight for the preservation of his kingdom. Recorded as tomb robbers to preserve their image, but an entire village of tomb robbers could never hope to sustain themselves for as long as Kul’Elna.

“The sins of Kul’Elna are yours to bear, and should you not correct yourself, your sons.” The God's voice is soft, and there's a foreignness to the way the vowels curl over his tongue. But the quiet fury cuts like a blade; Menkaure had come into the world on the night of the massacre, born in a flood of viscous red that even still lingered in his eyes.

“The seven Hathor’s, they spoke of great triumph in Menkaure’s rule.” The words spill without his control, and the Gods lips twitch. Re knew of course, that when his wife looked to him for a name he had spilled Mehen. His wife had been furious, ignoring the beckoning calls of the field of reeds for a moment longer to hastily override it. The deed was already done, ren impressed upon the babe's soul. Siamun had chortled for days and Akhenaten always called his nephew Mehen regardless of what the official records said.

“Triumph never comes without great sacrifice.” Re says solemnly, he looks at Menkaure affectionately, as one might their own blood. His words trace like the chill of night down his spine, erasing any ease such an affectionate look would evoke. “May I?” Re asks, an unnecessarily polite command from a God, and he exhales quietly in relief. Re may be furious but Sakhemet would not be called down upon his kingdom. 

“Of course.” He murmurs, though he’s loathe to let go of his son, there is no safer place in Kemet then a God's arms. 

Re shifts his son naturally, supporting Menkaure’s head in the crook of his elbow. Golden hands still shimmering with the puzzle’s bloody heka pass through the soft baby down, and the touch has him easing his shoulders as no harm comes to his child. Menkaure grips a golden finger and draws it into his mouth. Akhnamkhnum shivers, ready to take any impending fury. Re only chuckles, warm and sweet like honeyed beer. A soft smile passes berry stained lips and the Gods joy is radiant.

“Hello, beloved partner.” Re murmurs so quietly that Akhnamkhnum nearly misses it. His voice though a whisper, holds a longing that spans a millenia. He doesn’t dare ask, and remains kneeled to the deity who holds his world. Though Re loved humanity he had sent the lion goddess to wreak bloody vengeance when they had slighted against him. The items were powerful, incredibly so, but to threaten a God? He swallows and prays to Isis for wisdom.

“He will be the end of your dynasty.” Re says, eyes glistening as Menkaure gnaws gleefully on God flesh. “He will be radiant, and clever, kind and brave. Everything one could ever hope to find in a king of peace, but Ma’at will demand his power to battle Isfet.”

Akhnamkhnum shudders, he has wronged his son and kingdom for nothing. For his son to be the champion of the Gods, it was the last thing a father would want for his son. Menkaure could not afford to have a full childhood if chaos itself was his destined enemy.

“The Gods will lend their power to his fight, for Isfet is as much their enemy as his.” Re says, jiggling his precious martyr, and Menkaure laughs brightly releasing the gods fingers in favour of the strands of gold that frame a deceptively kind face. For no kindness came from knowing the fate of one's child.

“Could I not relieve the burden from my son?” Akhnamkhnum pleads, voice cracking as Menkaure chews on the Gods hair, tugging on the strands that don’t fit in his maw.

“The Gods will not answer your call.” Re says simply, an unchangeable fact of life. “I can not stay for much longer.” He says, gently prying his hair away from Menkaure with a sad smile. 

“Until we meet again my other self.” A lone tear traces down the soft boyish curves of Re-Khepri’s face, plinking gently against Menkaure’s forehead. Re passes Menkaure back to him and he clutches his child who lets out a wail of displeasure as he’s separated from the God.

Re casts a last yearning look at Menkaure, sorrow radiating from their being as they leave in a burst of gold. Leaving the false god king of Kemet alone with his ill fated son.


	2. Re

Menkaure grows into a shy but brilliant child, unmatched in anything that requires an inkling of strategy, and an uncanny amount of luck. Siamun of course takes to calling him Mehen as well. 

“It’s his ren.” Siamun chortles, as he adjusts Menkaure’s wrist as he makes to roll the astrologos. “Like this little prince, curved this way you have better control over the roll.”

Menkaure nods eagerly, Re blessed locks falling into eyes that carry the bloody hues of sunset, as he sends carved bone bouncing, the eyes of Re and Heru’ur peer up and Menkaure cheers at the sight. Re-Harakhte, the unification of two suns. 

“Ah, the prince will be quite the god of victory.” Maahes says, long chestnut strands brushing the ground as he studies the fallen dice, dark blue eyes look to their teacher Imhotep, the current ring bearer and court magician for confirmation. 

“Maha’ call me Mehen!” Menkaure orders with all the impotent fury a toddler can muster. Akhnamkhnum swallows uneasily and rises, murmuring a vague excuse as he departs. 

He can hardly stomach looking at Menkaure somedays, with every passing day he resembles Re more then he or his mother. He can only be thankful that the benben spikes carry the mortal hues of drenched battlefields, and not the neverending lapis depths of a God.

He was warned against shaving Menkaure’s head, though it was tradition, the public took it as a blessing of their future pharaoh’s reign. He can only hear Iwnw’s creation myth when he sees it. The God Atum emerged from the waters of Nun alone, and in his loneliness he had taken his shadow to the marshlands.

Was Menkaure simply the sheut of a God sent to restore Ma’at because of his incompetence? 

The Hyksos had been strong, wielding weapons that surpassed chariots and khopesh. After especially long days he finds himself in the shadows of the palace wondering if one of the many sacrifices the items called for was the true soul of Menkaure, leaving an empty vessel in his place.

Menkaure was unnerving in his perfection, a child still if his pot ambushes with Menhet -‘Mana!’ she would protest- spoke of anything. 

But had Osiris not crawled into a box simply to win it? He clutches his beer bowl and drinks long from it. He needs to be sure.

Looking back on it, taking Menkaure to the ritual room in Kul’Elna was a mistake. He had led a child into a place drenched in corrupted heka and grown irritated when he’d cried like the child he is. 

Menkaure had begged, snot and tears staining tiny hands, mingling with the blood on his skinned palms. In his fit of madness he had told the boy, his son, because regardless of what resided in Menkaure’s skin it was still his child -the last physical remnant of his beloved- to raise himself as a prince should. The boy had hiccuped violently as a radiant smile cut his stained face, and he could not bear to look upon Re's serpent. He downs the rest of his beer, and rubs the bridge of his nose. Perhaps, Imhotep would know how to exorcise the demons in his mind. Or perhaps, it was his curse to bear, Re was correct, though he may not have signed the order, Kul'Elna was still his sin.

He was always so angry these days, and Menkaure was almost always the source. Angry at Menkaure for his brilliance, and angry for his humanity. He loved the boy, or at least he wanted to, but he was the setting sun of his dynasty. A martyr was not something to attach yourself to, and Menkaure would willingly throw away his life. Maahes had gone wailing to Imhotep with Menkaure in tow crying about the prince throwing himself in the way of a snake bite. It wasn’t venomous but it was unnerving how little he valued his own life.

* * *

Young Set had returned to the palace five years after Kul’Elna, draped in thin linen; unaware of his teacher’s true identity, but trailing after Akhenaten with blue eyes full of stoic adoration. He had asked his brother why he had not told his child the truth.

“Disowning him is the best I can do for him.” Akhenaten said, fingers tracing the golden eye set in his flesh. “I do not want the gods to judge him for the sins I committed. Ammit will surely devour my heart, but I will go gladly knowing that I have given my son a future.”

Truly his brother would make for a wiser king.

Set had challenged Menkaure to every game in the palace three times over, it was no secret the young prince was prodigious in all games. Set had taken it as a challenge that no one was clever enough to defeat the future God king. Siamun was a gleeful audience, having the pair compete in his office as he worked through the day's administrative tasks.

Set was fair competition, managing to draw ties from Menkaure’s sticky fingers. The children had been in uproar for days, demanding matches against Set. It had ended with the central courtyard being repurposed as a giant mehen board, much to his and Akhenaten’s exasperation. Siamun had waved it off, and Akhnamkhnum could hear his vizier grinning beneath his veil.

“The courtyard was overdue for a redesign, a sign from Tefnut that it is time for a change.” Siamun says jovially, scrawling more notes across his slip of papyrus.

He watches as the bushes are stripped of their greenery “To make the tiles prettier!” Menhet cheered as she pressed fistfuls of crumpled greenery into Maahes hands, who would carefully smooth the broken leaves flat and make tidy borders around the drawn tiles. Isis who was a year younger then Maahes and the prospective necklace candidate, was yelling Set’s moves at him before he’d make them as they played on a much smaller mehen board, flustering the boy into rapidly changing his tactics as Menkaure laughed from the sidelines.

A hand clasps his shoulder and Akhnamkhnum looks to his brother, a soft smile crosses drawn and tired features. The items drew a toll from their users, the eye more so then others, Akhenaten had aged ten years in the span of five. 

“Do not regret the past, for it paves the way to a better future.” 

“Their peace is built on the darkest sins.” He strokes the pendant; it weighed heavily on a good day, but today, it burdens his shoulders and bows his neck as blood gold bites into his abdomen, seeking more victims to fuel its curse. 

“You disrespect the souls that fed your salvation. Do not make those sacrifices worth nothing.” Akhenaten says sharply, fingers digging like Nekhbet’s talons. 

Akhnamkhnum stays silent and watches his brother walk away brusquely. The children's names were steeped in imminent war and the underworld, the Gods had a hand in this. He tears his gaze away and returns to the throne, he would have to plan Mehen’s lessons, Shai and Renenutet were moving faster then he’d thought.

He would at the very least give Mehen until his eighth harvest to live as a child. With his first linens would come all the responsibilities that came with embodying Heru’ur, his son will not have the luxury of peace upon his ascendence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akhnamkhnum always struck me as a poor and cowardly king/father with the way he treated Atem and fought for his kingdom.  
> While Akhenaten took immoral measures to assure peace, he did so knowing full well he was damning himself. Though he's cast solely as a villain I think it was more of a slow descent into darkness fueled by the influence of the eye as well as lingering insecurities and grievances, and he 100% loves his son.  
> Mahad would likely be scripted with a 'T' glyph at the end as Maahat, or Mehet. 'T' is typically signifies femininity. Now wait you say, Set ends with a 'T' and that's 100% a male God. Well, he gave birth to the lunar disc, so take that as you will.  
> Mana gets Menhet who like Maahes was a lion based war god/goddess.  
> Isis was not changed to Aset for similar reasons to why I've used pyramid instead of benben. It's so ingrained and might cause confusion due to similar names, or the word's interpretation blending with previously used correct meanings.  
> Iwnw was the Egyptian name for heliopolis (cairo)  
> Shai and Renenutet were gods who were involved in fate. Shai was the god of fate, while Renenutet would give every child their secret name.  
> Oh and children ran around naked for the first eight years of their life  
> Published May 5 2020  
> Edited May 5 2020 *Atem was born at the end of the harvest season, and not during the flood season. So June 2nd instead of July 26th. The wider known fandom date is based on the coptic calendar which came in the Ptolemy period which was the Greek rule! Small change, just me being pedantic.


	3. Atum-Re

He can feel himself growing weaker, the phantom weight of Ammit’s teeth resting against his heart slowing its beat to an erratic stutter. An ever present reminder of his inevitable fate. 

On Mehen’s eleventh birthday he curses him with the pendant, and oh how he  _ smiles _ . As radiant as the promised dynasty that will never come. He scampers towards Maahes, who has borne the Ring for a year now, the sixteen year old kneels before Mehen, his eyes accusing shards of lapis lazuli as they meet his over Mehen’s slight shoulder. 

At Siamun’s cajoling Mehen attempts to summon his Ka. Isis presents her Diadankh to the boy, hers the smallest, and yet it still swallows the thin limb. Gold wings dangle awkwardly though Maahes has ensured the leather straps were drawn as tight as possible. Akhenaten leans forward, eye gleaming in interest, his is not the only sharp gaze. This will be a testament of Mehen's future authority, how he bears himself will be remembered upon his ascendency.

Mehen flusters under the weight of the court's stares, and Akhnamkhnum cannot help the twitch of his lips. Soft, lacking in confidence, his Ka will match his constitution, his heart flutters. He looks to him, and flinches minutely before straightening, pools of blood gleaming wetly. Mehen raises his arm, and exhales softly, sending gold strands fluttering.

Mehen takes to summoning well, far too well. He wields his Ka with ease. An imposing figure, clad in plate the colour of the primordial waters, trimmed in the golden rays of Re and a shining falcon visor; its plumage and eyes the rich crimson of blood drenched plains. 

Re incarnate, nothing less for the chosen emissary of the Gods.

The court is sent into an uproar, cheers and babble of a bright future flood his senses. His wine tastes rank.

Siamun tames the jubilance with the swift arrangement of a mock duel. Isis and Set as the youngest members of the inner court volunteer themselves as Mehen’s opponents. Neither draw upon their own Ka, Mehen’s blade only knows to bite for blood, a personal Ka battle could prove fatal against an untested prodigy. 

Mehen laughs bright and brilliant as his Ka cuts through Set’s Battle Ox, before spinning to deflect a blast of light from Isis’s Mystic Elf. His talent for games has reflected in his battle tactics, the anticipation and smooth orders. Red eyes fall on him, glowing and expectant.

He looks away. Gaze falling on Akhenaten, his brother’s eyes are closed to him; disgust coats his impassive face. 

Akhnamkhnum cannot bear to stomach it any longer. 

So he leaves.

Maahes seeks his audience hours later as he prays for forgiveness in a near forgotten corner of his palace, lit only by the sun's dying rays and flickering candles.

“You have brought a great curse upon your kingdom.” Maahes greets, the ring dangles from the leather cord held in his tightly clenched fist, thrust forward with it’s golden eye condemning him.

“I am your Pharaoh, and you will respect me.” He says coldly, rising to his feet. Maahes looks up fiercely, lion like eyes only burning hotter.

“My Pharaoh would not kill an entire village of loyal men and women! Six hundred and ninety three honest souls condemned to this!” Maahes shakes the ring, sending the points chiming.

“Would you have me allow for my kingdom to fall to foreigners?” Akhnamkhnum sneers, lips curling as the room grows darker. 

“If you could not manage to preserve the kingdom by your own hands, then perhaps it would have been just.” Maahes spits, free hand swinging back, flames crackling as they grew taller. “Evil spills from these items, and you would give your burden to your child!”

“That thing is no child of mine!” He shouts, voice cracking, eyes burning. “He is a blight upon my kingdom, he will bring ruin to everything I have worked for!”

“He would make for a better Pharaoh then you could ever hope to be!” Maahes roars, ever the protector of Atum. His voice goes quiet. “He is kind and just. A pillar of good and a child who wants nothing more than the approval of his distant father.” 

“Menkaure died as his mother did.” Akhnamkhnum says, turning away from Maahes. “There is no future for him, or for my dynasty. All that is left of my legacy is the instrument of the Gods.”

“Because you have failed!” Maahes sneers. “Your foremost duty is to uphold Ma’at, and instead you turn to Isfet in your desperation.”

Red coats his vision as he spins, hand flying,

Maahes stumbles back, falling to the floor as his split lip coats his chin in blood.

“I sacrificed my Heka for your broken rule!” Maahes cries, spitting blood as it coats his teeth. “Do the others know of their bloody origins?”

“No, they do not.” He whispers looking from the blood on his hand, to the boy on the floor. His misery illuminated by the dying light, mused chestnut is plastered to his pallid cheeks by tears and blood. “Should you inform them, the kingdom will surely crumble under its weight.”

He leaves, and Maahes does not follow.

He weeps that night, for his wife; the one he had loved best and longest, for all his children who had been taken far too soon, of what Mehen could have been had the Gods been kinder, but mostly it is for the man he has become.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In retrospect I realized that this is a character study, and nothing actually happens.  
> I had more written that actually stuck to the tags I had, but it was long and from Set's point of view which didn't gel with the style. So I'll probably do a Millennium World rewrite of some sort, so I can chuck it somewhere relevant.  
> Black Luster Soldier has me stuck between Ra and Horus imagery, so I went with Re since it's more relevant.  
> Anyways thank you for reading, and take care.  
> Posted May 21st 2020

**Author's Note:**

> You can argue for the Arabic; Heba all you like, but I raise you the Egyptian; Mehen.  
> Mehen is not only a board game, but a snake deity who coils around Re and protects him as he travels through the underworld.  
> Menkaure means: "Eternal are the souls of Re/Ra"  
> A village of tomb robbers makes little sense, so they are now a sister settlement to Deir El-Medina. One that was vilified to justify mass murder. Bakura was right and he’s allowed to say it, Zorc is trash and deserves to perish.  
> Also Atem/Atum is likely a diminutive of his pharaonic name, and I wanted to give him a name that had to do with games, so we get Mehen, but Menkaure to the public. Also made adjustment's because what Pharaoh doesn't evoke a God with his throne name?  
> Posted April 30th 2020


End file.
